


The Other Fifty One

by bzarcher



Series: HamilWatch [2]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda, Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Crossover, Drabbles, Gen, Grief, Healing, Memories, Multi, Omnic Rights, Widowtracer, families, lacroixton, reconcilliation, ressurection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-12
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-08-30 15:33:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8538532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bzarcher/pseuds/bzarcher
Summary: Drabbles and side stories set in the "HamilWatch" series.





	1. Ergonomics

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't read [Tomorrow There'll Be More Of Us](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8032114), you will probably want to do so before trying to read these stories.
> 
> If you're going ahead anyway, you need to know that through mad science and bizarre intent, Alexander Hamilton has found himself resurrected in the world of Overwatch, in the year 2076.
> 
> He's not entirely sure he's happy about that, either.

“Miss Vaswani. How can I help you?” Alexander had spoken a few times with the statuesque Indian woman, but she’d never sought him out in his office before.

“There is a great deal of… enthusiasm in the workshop today. Winston suggested I might find your company more restful.”

“Ah.” Hamilton didn’t quite understand how the relationships between Reinhardt’s armorer, Torbjörn, the former Vishkar architech, and the Australian who occasionally occupied it worked, exactly, but he WAS aware of the occasional disputes that erupted there when someone violated one of the many unspoken rules each of them seemed to hold dear – and that it often ended in explosions and / or fisticuffs. “I think I understand. Would you care to sit down?”

“Yes, thank you.” Settling into one of the chairs facing his desk, Satya produced a small white tablet and quickly became engrossed in her reading, so Alexander bent back to his own writing with a small smile.

It was perhaps twenty minutes later when the silence was broken by something other than the tapping of fingers on a touchscreen or the scratch of a pen against paper.

“Does your back hurt?”

Alexander blinked, looking up over his glasses in confusion. “I’m sorry?”

“You are bending almost entirely over your desk when you write,” Satya expanded, “That is quite poor ergonomics. It must be painful.”

Hamilton shrugged. “I suppose, yes, but it’s a habit.” He smiled crookedly. “After all, I’ve been doing it for almost three hundred years.”

The hard-light crafter shook her head. “That does not make it a healthy behavior – simply an ingrained one.” Considering his desk, she stood. “Hold out your arms, please, and sit up straight.”

Humoring her, Alexander held out both arms, siting up as requested. Moving around the desk, Satya examined him with a practiced eye, judging the length of his arms and the height of his torso in comparison to the desk, then closed her eyes for a long moment before energizing the array built into her artificial arm.

Within moments, she had gently teased and shaped a thin but sturdy base from thin air, angling it up and forming a slight rise for papers and pens to rest against, then formed the upper portion of the new addition before setting it down onto the desk. “Please try that.”

“I understand,” Hamilton noted, “the rough idea of what you can do by shaping and forming light, but that was truly remarkable.” Then, moving his papers over, he leaned in to write (a bit more naturally, he had to admit) and finished the paragraph he’d begun when she'd interrupted him. “That is excellent, I must admit. Thank you.”

Her lips turning up in a small but satisfied smile, Satya nodded before returning to her seat. “You are welcome.”

“So,” Alexander observed as he turned his pad to a fresh sheet of paper, “since you’re here, would you care to discuss what Overwatch means to you?”


	2. Filling In The Blanks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This conversation takes place sometime between chapters 14 and 16 of "Tomorrow There'll Be More Of Us." Just one of those scenes I realized needed to happen after the fact. :)

Gabriel was watching the sun turn the waters of the Strait a deep gold and red as it sank below the horizon when he heard the sound of spurs on the roof.

“Always did like it up here,” Jesse drawled as he stood a few feet away from where his former commander sat, “peaceful, this time of day.”

Gabriel turned, his hood resting against his back. He’d done another run of ‘rat patrol’ the day before, so his flesh looked a little less ashy, his eyes a little less red. “Been wondering when we’d get to talk, _mijo_. How was the mission?”

McCree shrugged beneath his serape, striking a match off his armored breastplate before lighting his cigarillo. “Decent. Ran into a couple of _Yashigaru-gumi_ guys trying to move illegally harvested omnic parts along the way. I think Genji took a real satisfaction in handing those boys their asses.”

Gabriel’s shoulders rose with a short huff of laughter. “I can imagine.” He considered what to say, but there were so many questions, on both sides. Finally, he turned back to the sea, letting his eyes follow the horizon. “How’s the arm?”

“Suppose it’s decent, too. I need Angie to check the connections later – seawater’s always hell on those. But that ain’t what you really wanted to ask, is it?”

Gabriel shrugged. He didn’t have to say more.

“Few months after I left,” Jesse filled in, finally settling down next to Gabriel and ashing the cigarillo over the edge of the rooftop, “Went after some bounties. First few weren’t bad. Got ratted out by my local contact, though, and the _pendejo_ was waiting in my hotel room my first night in town.”

Gabriel sighed. “Didn’t I tell you to always book two rooms?”

McCree shrugged. “Only had so much cash. Anyway – got a twelve-gauge to the elbow. Managed to put him down, but most of the bounty went to paying for the new arm.” Jesse smirked around the cigarillo, and it could have been ten years ago. “Bounty on the contact who crossed me, though, that was pretty nice.”

Gabriel chuckled. “Well, at least there was that.”

“Missed this,” Jesse admitted quietly, “missed you being like this. Talking. Teaching. Giving a shit.”

Gabriel closed his eyes, feeling the guts he didn’t really have any more clench up. “I’m trying, _mijo_. I’m not better. Not all the time. I get angry. Can barely control it sometimes. Fighting helps. Jack’s helping. Mostly. I can’t turn back the clock – but I’m trying to bring it forward, not just stuck on the worst day of my life.”

“Heard you’d been helping Hamilton out most of the time I was gone.” McCree changed the subject, accepting the explanation. “How much of a trip is that for you?”

Gabriel chuckled softly. “It’s funny what he finds out, what he knows, and what he doesn’t know. Would you believe he’d never had popcorn before? Lost his mind when I made some in the microwave.”

“Hell, I still lose my mind when someone’s making it.”

Gabriel snorted at the man who might have been the closest he’d ever come to having a son. “Just because you burn it every time.”

“I’m fine if you give me one of those whirl-pop pans and some butter! Microwave popcorn’s just not right.”

“This from the ingrate with a “BAMF” belt buckle. Still.”

The gunslinger stood with a snort. “Oh, you must be feelin’ better if you can give me shit about the belt buckle _and_ my popcorn.”

Gabriel smiled. “I suppose I am.” Then, before McCree could get too far, he turned enough to catch his eye. “Ay. Jesse?”

“Yeah?”

“Shimada – the older one.”

McCree tried to pull the brim of his hat down, but Gabriel could see the slight rise of heat on his cheeks. “What about him?”

“You happy, _mijo_?”

Jesse’s eyes softened, and his lip turned up in a smile that Gabriel hadn’t seen in years. “Yeah, _jefe._ It ain’t always easy – but I’m happy.”

“Don’t you dare fuck it up, _vaquero._ ”

The smell of cigar smoke lingered as Jesse’s chuckle disappeared down the stairwell.


	3. Promises Kept

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains references to the previous Lacroix-Oxton polyfidelitous marriage as described in [Chapter 11](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8032114/chapters/18631492) of _Tomorrow There'll Be More of Us_

 

It wasn’t unusual for visitors in Paris to make their way to the gates of _Pére-Lachaise_. After all, it was the largest cemetery in Paris, and plenty of tourists came to see the many famous artists, authors, and soldiers interred there.

A set of visitors making their way in via grappling hook in the middle of the night, however, was rather outside the norm.

Even though France had signed the new Overwatch Accords and they could, in theory, have done this in broad daylight, Lena understood why Amélie had asked if they could make the trip in secret. Even if her altered skin wouldn’t have attracted attention, there were plenty of reasons why they both needed privacy for this visit, and the tourist crowds would have made that difficult, at best.

They’d swung in via the blocked off entrance near the old Metro station, both women dressed in casual clothes if you didn’t count Lena’s ever-present Accelerator and Amélie’s grappling gauntlet. Keeping a long box carefully tucked under her arm, the former Talon agent slowly looked across the sprawling mass of tombs and graves.

“You’ll need to lead…I never felt the urge to visit, before.”

Lena nodded, giving her wife’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Not a problem. I was expecting that.”

The marker that Lena brought them to was not as large or ornate as quite a few of the memorials around it, but the dark polished stone with the Overwatch insignia carved in relief at the top had a simple elegance to it.

 

**_Col. Gérard Étienne Lacroix_ **

_n. 24 Août 2028  
m. 9 Avril 2069_

_Mari – Soldat – Héros_

Brushing a few leaves away, the taller woman knelt down, gently running her fingers over the stone. “I think he would have appreciated that it was not too elaborate.” Amélie opened the box she’d brought with her, revealing a bouquet that mixed deep red and dark pink roses with white lilies and hydrangea. Taking one last deep breath of their aroma, she placed them at the base of the marker, caressing the stone again before sitting back.

“Do you know who arranged for him to be buried here?”

Lena shook her head. “Wasn’t back yet, when it happened. I’d talked to him about getting his will done – about both of us doing it – before I went up that last time, but he hadn’t arranged anything when I left.” Reaching out, she gently ran her fingers over the Overwatch emblem. “I’m guessing he felt it was a bit more urgent, afterwards.”

“He didn’t tell me,” Amélie admitted sadly, “but neither of us were terribly good at communicating for the first few months. He was inconsolable at your funeral. I tried…”

Lena sat so she could bring Amélie into a gentle hug. “Shh. I know you did, luv. I know. He didn’t ever handle that sort of change well. Remember when we lost the fish tank, after that one blackout?”

Closing her eyes, the former Widowmaker sniffed in bittersweet amusement. “He nearly strangled the fool from the power company who said it wasn’t their fault the whole block had been knocked out.”

“And then he wouldn’t hear of getting _new_ fish, because they wouldn’t be the same.” Lena’s smile had more wistfulness in it than grief, but she’d had a few more years to adjust, really. For Amélie, reconnecting to her emotions – particularly around their marriage and the death of their former husband – was very much an ongoing process.

Amélie sniffled again. “I remember you threatened to bring home a puppy to make him finally agree to just get more fish.”

“I mean, best case, we stopped keeping an empty fish tank in the living room. Worst case I got a puppy. I really couldn’t lose.” They both laughed quietly at that before Lena gently took things back to the original thread of the conversation. “I never asked who took care of the stone, afterward. I was just grateful he was somewhere in Paris. Geneva was never really home for him.”

“ _Ma souris magnifique_ ,” the Frenchwoman agreed, “This city was in his bones. It is right that he is here.”

“When I came to visit him for the first time,” Lena admitted, “I was upset you weren’t given a place here. Before we knew…well. Before we knew. I’ve always wondered if that was meant to be a clue.”

“Perhaps,” Amélie shrugged, “but I am grateful regardless. It would be…uncomfortable, now.”

Lena remembered walking up to a headstone with her name on it, not long after she’d been given the clearance to leave Winston’s lab, and just hugged Amélie a bit tighter.

There was a long silence, but it was comfortable rather than awkward. Still grief there, for both of them, but the scars could heal now, the wounds finally closed. Nothing could bring Gérard back to them, but Talon no longer held sway over his survivors.

 “Do you remember the restaurant we took you to, the first time Gérard and I convinced you to come to Paris with us?” Amélie’s voice surprised Lena after the quiet, and she took a moment to respond.

“Oh – yes! _La Petit Chaise_ , right?”

Amélie smiled, leaning into her love’s embrace. “You were so nervous. I thought Gérard was going to have to run you around the block to calm you down.”

Lena chuckled. “Well, I’d never been on a date with a married couple before – or at least not both at the same time.”

That admission earned Lena a kiss on the cheek. “Menace.”

Lena giggled. “Guilty as charged.”

“He loved that place. I think it was his favorite spot in the entire city.” Amélie gently freed herself, then stood, offering a hand up. “We should have dinner there before we leave.”

“I’d like that.” Grunting slightly as she stood, Lena searched Amélie’s eyes carefully. “How are you doing right now?”

Amélie reached out to gently stroke the top of the marker again. “It hurts, _chérie_ , but…less, now. I think I will need to come back again, but…this is enough, for tonight.”

Lena placed her hand over Amélie’s, feeling the contrast between her cooler skin and the chill of the stone.

_She’s back_ , Lena silently told the headstone, _and I kept my promise. Rest easy, my love. We’ll take care of each other from here._

“Want to take a walk down the _quai_ before we go back to the hotel? Maybe find a bottle of wine?”

Amélie smiled shyly. “I’d like nothing better.”


End file.
